


Selfie Wars

by grantaire_the_cynic



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantaire_the_cynic/pseuds/grantaire_the_cynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>clarespace:</p><p>Selfie war on Instagram between the Amis except for Enjolras who is ALWAYS an accidental photobomber until the Amis collectively decide to turn the war into a fierce competition on who can have photobomber!Enjolras the most in their pictures. Of course, Enjolras is completely oblivious because, well, Enjolras.</p><p>To no one’s surprise, Grantaire wins because he has a Master’s degree in being around Enjolras’ general vicinity at all times. Courfeyrac demands a recount because he lives with Enjolras, for fuck’s sake, no way that R can have more pictures than him.</p><p>But there’s no mistake; R definitely wins it, hands-down. The problem is when Grantaire’s sizeable followers (because he’s like, this artsy hipster dude who posts amazing photos of his own work and other random subjects), who have been religiously following the selfie wars, starts shipping him and the blond man (who is in most of his posts that they only know as APOLLO) together.</p><p>Then Enjolras somehow finds out about everything (including the pictures of past rallies and pop art incorporating lines of Enjolras’ speeches that he thought R hadn’t even listened to).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let the Games Begin

"Okay, so we ALL know that I have the most selfies. Easily." Courfeyrac said, scrolling through his Instagram page. "So cough it up. You all owe me twenty bucks."

Bahorel shook his head. "Come on, you know I have just as many as you. I think you all owe me twenty bucks."

"Clearly you haven't seen my page." Jehan said, grinning. "I think I blew all of you out of the water."

"Actually, Prouvaire," Combeferre cut in, "You and Courfeyrac are tied for the most. We'll have to go to a tie breaker. Or you split the winnings."

"Oh hell no! No splitting!" Courfeyrac said.

"Courf, we all know it'll go to the same place. You and Jehan already split everything."

"That's not the point! The point is we need a winner!" Courfeyrac stood up.

"Alright, we'll go to a tie breaker. Since Enjolras, who decided not to join us today, where is he by the way, R?"

"He's finishing a paper for one of his classes. He's locked himself in his room. Come on, Courf, you live with him."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean he alerts me to his whereabouts all the time."

"Alright, since, after a recount, it seems that we have a three way tie, we're going to start a new round. Who ever can post the most selfies with Enjolras accidentally photobombing wins. Same prize- twenty dollars from each of the losers."

"You are all so fucked." Courfeyrac said, gleefully.

"Why is that?" Bahorel asked.

"Because I live with him and I blew Combeferre out of the water. Be prepared to lose bitches!" 

Everyone laughed, pulling out their phones and taking ridiculously cliche selfies.


	2. Game on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Enjolras photobomb selfie war has begun.

Grantaire sat at the foot of Enjolras' bed, pulling on his clothes. "I'd love to stay, you know that, but I have to finish my final piece for the semester." he pulled out his phone, pretending to check for messages. He snapped a selfie, grinning to himself at the image of Enjolras stretched out behind him. Part of Grantaire was disappointed that his head covered Enjolras from the waist down. But he knew that would be a tasteless image that would probably have terrible consequences. Grantaire was actually very private on his Instagram- focusing only on artwork (his and other's) and not posting much personal information. Until this selfie war. 

"We'll meet for breakfast tomorrow. Don't worry. I'll treat."

Grantaire snapped about five more pictures, planning on posting them periodically as he worked. He kissed Enjolras deeply before leaving for his studio.

 

"Fucking hell, how does he have four? He's not even here! Is he? I thought I heard him leave!" Courfeyrac whined, looking through Grantaire's Instagram page. "Fucking hell, there's six. No fair. AND HE'S PAINTING RIGHT NOW HOW IS THIS A THING?!"

Jehan laughed, taking Courfeyrac's phone and tossing it aside. He kissed Courfeyrac lightly. "Come on, I have a better idea on how we can kill time."

 

Enjolras groaned. He was actually trying to sleep (for once), but the sounds from Courfeyrac's room were loud and keeping him awake. "Shut up!" he pounded on the wall. "For the love of all that is good SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Enjolras was cranky and he didn't know why. _"Stress. Lack of R. no post coital snuggling. that essay."_ his mind supplied.  
"Fuck you, you aren't exa-ahh, fuck Jehan yes fuck, Exactly quiet yourself! We suff-ahh shit, suffered through you and R fucking, now it's our turn!" Courfeyrac shouted, his voice muffled coming through the wall. Enjolras sighed and got dressed. He headed over to Grantaire's without even texting. Watching him paint all night was better than listening to Jehan and Courfeyrac have sex. 

Grantaire had no complaints as he uploaded more selfies of himself working on his final project- a mural- with Enjolras in the background of all of them.

 

"I have seven. Suck on that!" Courfeyrac said triumphantly, the next morning as the Amis met for coffee before they went off to their respective classes.

Jehan laughed. "He's going to be both pissed and impressed that you managed to have him photobomb your selfies in a towel. Also R might be a bit pissed."

"No he won't, he'll be too busy murdering R over the post coital photobombs last night. I mean, look at that face, we know _exactly_ what they just did."

The group laughed. Feuilly pulled up his Instagram. "Check this one out, though. I got him at the grocery store, buying cereal. Does he really eat that? It's for kids!"

"Yeah but you only have one- and you didn't even get him buying condoms or something." Bahorel said. He had zero, but was keeping that information to himself.

"Okay, so how does R already have twenty nine? We just started yesterday and he doesn't live with us!" Courfeyrac asked, scrolling through Grantaire's page. "And Enjolras didn't spend the night with him. He came home around one thirty."

"He's fucking Enjolras. That's how." Bahorel said.

"No way he can beat me. Just watch." Courfeyrac said, scrolling through the photos on his phone, looking for anything he missed. "I live with him, study with him, and have class with him. I can beat R's relationship advantage easily!"

 

The Amis seemed to have their phone out all the time, waiting for the moment they could snap a quick photo with Enjolras in the background. The side challenge they added was that who ever alerted Enjolras to their contest automatically loses and has to pay the winner double. Fortunately, Enjolras was pretty much oblivious to all of them, even if their phones were out way more during meetings. For the first time, no one got on Enjolras about his lack of social media presents aside from his blog and a twitter page he looks at maybe once a month.

Courfeyrac took to following him around. Eating with him every meal of the day "I know you forget to eat! And so does R this time of year, it's not good for you!" he reasoned on night, when Enjolras had grown frustrated with his prodding about food.

Combeferre was much more subtle than Courfeyrac (who everyone joked would be the one who tipped off Enjolras). He would often snap photos as they worked on preparing for meetings or were working in the library. He didn't go out of his way, however. He'd seen enough of Courfeyrac quickly hiding his phone or ducking behind a counter.

 

Two weeks in, They were sitting around the table, drinking coffee before classes. Feuilly kept his eye out for Enjolras while they compared progress.

"Where's R?" Courfeyrac asked.

Jehan laughed. "Come on, you know where he is. They kept us awake until two thirty this morning."

"Right. Well, that means we're safe, then, because Enj's first class is at eleven, and if he's not up now, he'll be going straight to class. So. I'll have you all know that I am closing in on seventy five selfies with our fearless leader lurking in the background!"

There was modest applause and one by one they all shared their tallies. Courfeyrac and Combeferre were neck and neck, seventy three and seventy two respectively. Bahorel and Feuilly were tied for last with twelve. 

"More effort gentlemen, more effort." Courfeyrac admonished, jokingly.

"Blow it out your ass, Courf, Enjolras never crosses my path. I'm working too much." Feuilly said. 

"Fair enough, in the mean time, I have tallied up R's and he is somehow way ahead of us- over one hundred and fifty. How? He doesn't live at our place, he doesn't sleep over, not with this epic mural thing he's working on, and he doesn't work in the library? How is this happening?"

"The magic of love, Courf." Jehan said, poking him.

 

Courfeyrac poured a cup of coffee, pretending to scroll through his phone. He snapped several shots as Enjolras stumbled into the kitchen, in full bead headed and patriotic boxers glory. Thank goodness he has no Instagram account or Courfeyrac would not survive the morning.

He just happened to be where Enjolras was for the day, and didn't run into Grantaire once. 

"How in the flying fuck did he upload twenty three selfies with Enjolras today alone? I was there and he wasn't. Fuck!" Courfeyrac tossed his phone aside. 

"Well, think of the consolation prize, Courf, when Enj finds out he's going to think his boyfriend is a creepy stalker." Jehan ran a hand through Courfeyrac's hair. 

Grantaire laughed to himself from his position in the front closet. He had managed to snap several perfect images through the crack in the door. And yet, Courfeyrac didn't recognize the background. 

"Why do you need to paint in our closet?" Enjolras had asked him the night before as they lay tangled together. "Of all places? And why can't Courfeyrac know about it?"  
"It's for my final project. I need quiet and privacy. The art studio is overrun with people and my apartment is no better."

 

"And you said everyone is paying twenty bucks to the winner?" Enjolras asked, grinning. 

"Yes sir! that would bring the total to one hundred and eighty dollars, since Cosette and Eponine threw their hats into the ring. A week late, but still, it's their money to lose. And we'll use it for something nice. Like a weekend to ourselves. Or a nice dinner."

"That sounds wonderful. Alright, I'm in. Let's make them super jealous." Enjolras grinned mischievously. 

 

"Alright, I have the final tally here," Combeferre said, clearing his throat. "After four weeks, in third place, with on hundred and twenty three: Courfeyrac. In second place, with one hundred and fifty two, me. Suck on that Courf. And, in first place, with three hundred and twenty nine Enjolras photobombs: no surprise here: R."  
The proclamation was met with a mix of groans and claps. Grantaire waved as people started handing over bills. 

"How the fuck did you get so many?" Courfeyrac lamented. 

"I'm getting my masters in 'Being with Enjolras'. It's a side effect of, as Bahorel so eloquently put it 'Fucking him'. Now pay up."

Grantaire counted the bills, laughing as Courfeyrac handed his over begrudgingly. "Well, gentlemen, and ladies. This was fun. We all put forth our best, but the best man won. Now, I shall return to my regularly scheduled Instagram that does not make me look like a stalker or serial killer." Grantaire bowed dramatically and headed for the art studio.

"I don't know how he did it." Courfeyrac lamented.

"Let it go, man." Combeferre said patting his back. "Had we done this with Jehan as our photo bomber, undoubtedly you would win. And probably also have your Instagram account suspended for inappropriate content, but that is neither here nor there."

Jehan, who was singing "Let it Go" was tackled by Courfeyrac. "They couldn't suspend it. Not with such an attractive photo bomber."

 

"Here you go, one hundred and eighty dollars. Now, we need to make plans. And no noble causes, that was my condition for winning it!"


	3. The Truth is Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras [finally] investigates Grantaire's Instagram page and finds out a few things.

Grantaire stretched out on the hotel bed, sighing contentedly at how comfortable it is. He watched Enjolras go through their suitcase, muttering to himself.

“Enj, we’re on a weekend long fake vacation in order to enjoy our winnings. Don’t worry about work. Instead come lay down because this is the most insanely comfortable mattress you’ll ever sleep on.”

Enjolras turned, smiling. “I suppose. It’s just hard to turn my brain off sometimes. I get thinking about something I need to do and I can’t help it. I have to finish the thought.”

“I know. I get like that when I’m painting. Now come on, lay down.” he made grabby hands at Enjolras. Enjolras laughed and slid into the bed. 

“Holy shit you’re right. This is the most comfortable bed ever.” he curled into Grantaire, laying his head on the other man’s chest. “So what is this instagram thing?” Enjolras asked. 

“Photo sharing social media. Come on, you’re not that much of a shut in.”

“I know, but like, what’s the point? Why?”

“To share your shit with the people who follow your shit. Here.” he tossed his phone at Enjolras. Grantaire posted all of his works, and some of his attempts at photography on his page. He has gained a sizable following, people wanting to see his latest works, but he never pays attention. He just posts the photo and moves on.

Enjolras scrolled through Grantaire’s page, looking at all of the photos. (Yes, ALL of them). He was surprised- even the ones he took with Enjolras in the background were amazing. He knew exactly when to use filters and when not to. He always had the subjects arranged perfectly, even if it was a picture snapped over his shoulder. As he scrolled, he realized that Grantaire didn’t post many pictures of himself, save for their contest. There were a few, though. Every twenty posts or so he posted an obligatory selfie. 

As he scrolled back to the top, Enjolras started looking at comments. At first, they were just comments about Grantaire’s artwork. (“This is amazing! Holy shit!” and “This is my favorite Instagram page. Keep ‘em coming!” stuff like that) And occasional musings about Grantaire’s selfies. But they started changing as he reached their contest.

_“Wow, who’s the hottie?”_ _“Is this R’s new muse?”_  
 _“New paintings of this guy?”_  
 _“Is that R’s boyfriend?”_  
 _“OMG IT TOTALLY HAS TO BE!”_  
 _“I ship it.” “OMG ME TOO!” “R/BLOND GUY!”_  
 _“Wonder what his name is?”_  
 _“I don’t know but day-uhm son.”_  
 _“Look at the n00bs. He’s Apollo. Been on R’s page for over a year.”_  
 _“Lol n00bs? Really? *sighs*”_  
 _“Apollo has been R’s muse for ages. Especially in photos.”_  
 _“Apollo has always been his muse?”_  
 _“I can see why R captions them as ‘Apollo’”_  
 _“R/Apollo”_  
 _“It has to be his boyfriend- he’s in a selfie war”_  
 _“Not necessarily- could just be stalking Apollo and using that for his selfi war”_  
 _“Apollo is in Jehan’s selfies too. Wonder if it’s an OT3??”_  
 _“Nah, Apollo is probably friends or brothers with Jehan.”_  
 _“Man, R the hot artist and his freakishly attractive boyfriend. NO FAIR!”_  
 _“I just want copious amounts of couples selfie’s from these two!”_  
 _“Here here.”_

Enjolras blushed. If they only knew. Enjolras handed Grantaire’s phone back.

“Do you ever read the comments?”

“No, I don’t. Why bother? I don’t want to read some punk ass fifteen year old talk about how “I could do ten times better with my eyes closed and drunk off my ass.” every time I post a picture. Fucking kids.”

“Well, I didn’t see any of them on here- and you can’t take their comments seriously anyway. They’re dumb ass kids who think they can be an asshole online because there are no consequences. I dare a kid to say that to your face.”

“I’m not knocking out a kid, Enj.”

“No, but you’ll learn them a lesson.”

Grantaire laughed, kissing Enjolras’ temple. “So, what are people saying about my art?”

“Not so much your art as….well, us. Here.” he showed Grantaire the comments. Grantaire read through them, laughing by the end. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me. People started shipping us during the selfie war!” he buried his face in Enjorlas’ neck, laughing. “Look at this- “Why is Apollo in the other guys’ pictures??? He’s R’s!” wow, possessive much? Or listen to this “The REAL winner of the selfie wars is Apollo. He’s in ALL of them.” If they only knew.” He turned his phone and snapped a couple pictures of himself cuddled up with Enjolras. 

_Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is my Boyfriend: Enjolras (Apollo to me)_

It took less than five minutes to reach one hundred likes and a dozen “OMG I KNEW IT!” and it’s variations to appear. 

“So tell me,” Enjolras began, “About the photos much earlier on your page. The artsy ones of our protests. You captioned them with my words.”

“Yes. How else could I fully capture your fire?”

“But you don’t listen.” Enjolras said, confused. “You never listen- you only joke around or argue?”

“I always listen to you. I don’t agree with you most of the time. But I always listen. And if we ignore our fellow man, we ignore our own future was the theme, if you will, of my final project last year.”

Enjolras sat up, looking at Grantaire with a mix of awe and pure love. He draped himself over Grantaire and kissed him deeply. Grantaire slyly snapped and posted another photo before tossing his phone away. 

“I love you.” Enjolras said softly, kissing Grantaire again. “And thank you. For listening, for believing.”

“I love you too. And you know I believe in you. Even if I disagree.” he slipped his hands under Enjolras’ shirt. “Now, what shall we do with a hotel room to ourselves for the weekend?” he smirked. 

“Oh I think we’ll come up with something- or somethings.” Enjolras laughed, nipping at Grantaire’s neck. “I have no doubts you’ll get creative.”


End file.
